Passing by Harriet's nightstand, Elara came to a sudden halt.
"Harriet."
"Hmm?" the shorter witch acknowledged.
"Why am I counting three snakes here?"
Harriet pulled her head out of her trunk to look at Elara and then at the three snakes curled around the magically heated stone now residing on the nightstand. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"About that." She pointed a finger at the banana-colored creature sitting between Kevin and Rick. It was bigger than the other two and appeared more like a small constrictor than a viper or a grass snake.
"I've always had three snakes."
"Yes, three snakes in total—and now you've four in total, including the monster you keep under your bed."
"Hmm, I don't know. I think you miscounted."
"You cheeky thing." Elara sighed, allowing the curious yellow snake to inspect her fingers, though she kept her hand well away from Kevin, the lousy little biter. "What's his name?"
"...Howard."
"Let me guess; you sneaked him off the table at Yule?"
"...maybe."
"How'd you manage that? I didn't see—and Snape didn't throw a fit, so I imagine he didn't see either."
Harriet found the shoe she sought and shoved her foot into it, rising to brush the dust from the seat of her trousers. "If I could sneak food off the table before Dudley's piggy little eyes spotted it, getting a snake past Snape is no problem." She fixed her hair back from her face in a lopsided knot, coming over to pet her growing menagerie of creepy critters. "D'you want to hold him? He's much friendlier than the others, I promise."
Elara didn't really wish to hold the snake, but she accepted it when Harriet gently tipped Howard into her cupped hands, surprised to find it pleasantly warm and pliant, his tiny pink tongue flicking in her direction.
"Hermione's going to have kittens," she said as they left the bedroom, the sound of the heavy door shutting echoing in the long, barren corridor. Elara held Howard close to her middle, and he didn't struggle, remaining still. "She already couldn't believe Mr. Flamel got you that dead crow pet last summer."
"First of all, Hugh's not a pet. I don't even have to feed him!"
"I've seen you give him treats before."
"Well, yes. Of course I have to give him treats. Don't be silly."
"Yes, pardon me for being silly. How preposterous; of course the dead crow needs treats."
They climbed the stairs, footsteps snapping against the bare stone, sunlight pouring in through the chateau's wide windows. The snow on the grounds had thinned somewhat, but the wind had picked up in its stead, and Elara knew even the best Warming Charms would be hard-pressed to keep out the chill.
There was a dueling hall on the third floor, or what had been a dueling hall in the past, now reduced to a simple, narrow room with a large hearth on either end, marks on the floor where a platform used to be, the walls mottled with old battle scars. It was a bit drafty and cool, but it warmed quickly when they moved wood from a rack and lit a fire. Mr. Flamel had shown it to them on their first afternoon there, a knowing tip to his smile as he watched Harriet inspect the room.
They chatted about nothing consequential, Elara sitting on the window sill nearest the hearth, legs stretched and crossed at the ankles, while Harriet rolled up the sleeves of her buttoned shirt. Elara had slept poorly the last two nights with the Flamels, and given the dark smudges under Harriet's green eyes, she assumed the other witch hadn't slept well either. There was a nervous, bothered energy about her that she tried very hard to cover up.
